


Broken

by jaekayelle



Series: The Affair [5]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 08:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaekayelle/pseuds/jaekayelle
Summary: Summary: a gulf of more than distance and time separates Jack and James.





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings: Jack/James, James/OFC, Jack/OMC, Will/Elizabeth  
> Rating: PG13  
> Disclaimer: Disney and Bruckheimer own the franchise. No copyright infringements intended. No profits made from this work of fiction.  
> Originally Posted: 10/22/04  
> Note #1: I inadvertently borrowed Admiral Stokes from tseek_unique and mentioned him in Sacrifices. She graciously allowed him to stay, and suggested I use him in Broken. Thus, he makes a cameo appearance. Be sure to read her fabulous stories at her journal. Go to the beginning and lose yourself for a few wonderful hours. :)  
> Warning: Character death. To say more would spoil. I'm only putting in the warning so no one will yell that I didn't warn you. You'll just have to trust me on this.  
> Warning #2: Better pack a hanky.

Will Turner curled his naked body around that of his wife, hands sliding over her sated flesh. Even in the twilight of sleep he could appreciate her scent—lilacs and jasmine or something flowery and womanly like that. He sank closer to slumber and breathed deeply of the rum in her hair.  
His eyes snapped open.

Rum?

He rolled over and found Jack Sparrow leaning closely over him, one hand on the headboard.

"Evenin', William."

"Jack!" Will remembered at the last moment to keep his voice down. He glanced at Elizabeth. She continued to sleep, the hint of a smile on her beautiful face.

Jack stretched out beside Will on the bed. "Thought you two would never finish. All that moaning and crying out."

Will blushed to the roots of his hair. "Shh!"

"It was a lovely sound. Music, in fact," Jack reassured him. "Quite stimulating."

Will inched away from him. "You're not here to..."

"No, no. Although..." he considered it and dismissed it all in the space of seconds. "No. I need some advice. Could we awaken your lovely wife? I would like to ask you both something."

"His lovely wife is already awake, thank you very much." Elizabeth sat up clutching the sheet to her breast. She reached for her dressing gown at the foot of the bed and somehow managed to put it on without revealing any more skin than she already had. Both men stared and breathed twin sighs of disappointment. When she was decent Elizabeth faced them. "Now what is it that you need to speak to us about?"

"I think I'm sick," Jack stated.

"We'll fetch a doctor!" Will started to get out of bed.

"Nonono, you don't understand. In fact, I don't understand and that's why I'm here."

Elizabeth said calmly, "Perhaps you could explain that."

Jack sprawled on the bed, causing Will to have to move over to make room for him. Elizabeth sighed, got up and resettled herself at the foot facing them.

"I've had a bout of something. It's not catching so don't worry your pretty heads about that. Actually you both have it already."

"What are the symptoms, Jack?" Will asked seriously, wanting to help, wanting to know. His concern for his friend over-rode the potential clutter of Jack's explanation. The probable clutter...

"Lessee, tiredness..."

"Are you not sleeping well?"

"Not all, lad. Not at all."

"What else, Jack?" Elizabeth asked.

And so Jack rattled off a list of what was wrong—bad temper, angry all the time, sleeplessness, no appetite, no interest in anything—and ended with, "My crew is on the verge of mutiny. If you children don't help me I'll be without me beloved Pearl again, only this time I'll be visitin' Davy Jones in his locker and it won't matter."

"I have no medical training, Jack, but to me it sounds like a matter of emotions rather than a physical problem. Is there something you're not telling us?" Elizabeth's eyes were filled with concern.

Abruptly Jack got up and began wandering around the room. He plucked an ornament off the dresser and shook it, then turned it over to check the base. Putting that back his eye was caught by Elizabeth's jewel case. He had a fine gold chain flowing through his fingers when its owner stalked over and took it away from him. She replaced it in the case, firmly closed the lid and took Jack by the hands so that he could not touch anything else that did not belong to him, or that was not his to touch. Will noted with relief that that last included Elizabeth.

"Tell us, Jack."

Unable to avoid Elizabeth's determined look the pirate nodded. "Aye. Could be that I miss Jamie."

Will and Elizabeth exchanged looks.

Will decided that he should be the one to tell Jack. "He left for Spain over five months ago."

"I saw him sail away."

"Why did you leave him, Jack?" Elizabeth asked. "He was devastated. I hadn't seen him that repressed since the day I met him. He was holding everything inside."

Jack bent his head. "I know, lass. I know. It's all my fault but I did it for him." He looked up. "Our liaison would have cost him his career. I couldn't let him give up everything he's worked for since he was a boy. His da is misguided. Meant well but didn't stop to consider what he was really doing to Jamie."

"Is there anything we can do for you, Jack?" Elizabeth asked.

"Aye. Get me a man. A lovely, tall, beautiful man who holds my heart in his lovely long-fingered hands." Jack took on an expression that disturbed Will. He had never seen his friend so cheerless.

Elizabeth reached over and cupped Jack's face in her hand. His dark eyes met hers. "Why didn't you go with him? You could go to him now. I'm sure he'd be delighted to see you."

"Making up is fun," Will offered with a happy smile.

"Yes," his wife said, "we sometimes fight with the sole purpose of making up afterwards."

Jack shook his head as he pulled away from Elizabeth. " Tis an impossible situation, poppets. We cannot be a couple."

"I don't understand why you came to us tonight," Will said.

"Needed someone to talk to." His expression was so miserable that Elizabeth clutched Will's arm. When he glanced her way he saw tears glistening in her eyes. "After Barbossa stole my Pearl I was alone in the world and it suited me. But I got accustomed to talking things out with Jamie... some things... most things... and I can't do that anymore."

"Perhaps you and he will be together again someday?" Will asked hopefully. Judging by the looks on his wife and his friend he was startled to realize that he was the romantic one of the three. Or maybe he just really, really wanted Jack to be happy.

"Well, of course you can always come to us," Elizabeth told Jack. "Only next time pick a more appropriate time, will you?"

"Why? You were done lovin'. I heard you finish."

Will blushed again but Elizabeth only frowned fiercely until Jack apologized.

"A'right! No need to throw faces at me. I'm sorry you are offended that I eavesdropped."

While Elizabeth rolled her eyes, Will found laughter bubbling up inside him. When he could no longer hold it in he clapped his hands over his mouth. He looked askance at his wife who frowned at him in turn, until her exasperation gave way to amusement.

"I'll make up the bed for you in the guest room, Jack. You can at least stay and breakfast with us."

He perked up at the mention of breakfast. "Aye. I'd like that." Elizabeth got up and headed for the door. She was out in the hallway when Jack asked, "So when will the guest room be made into a nursery? It sounded like you were both doing your part in bringing little Turners into the world."

"Jack!" Will admonished, "will you get your mind off... you know?"

"Interesting you should mention that. Jamie always said I had a one-track mind."

"He was right!" came the affirmation from the next room.

Jack and Will grinned at each other.

#

Three weeks later in the Mediterranean near Madeira:  


James spun around, arms raised together over his right shoulder with the blade of the sword dipping slightly behind his back. He clutched the weapon in both hands for strength. He thrust hard knowing instinctively that he would need it, even though he could not at the moment see his attacker behind him. Throughout the battle he had been fighting with all five senses—even taste in a way, as a trickle of coppery blood ran from a gash on his cheek into his mouth. And now a sixth one surged to the fore, one that only ever made itself known when he was in such a position as he was now—surrounded and in mortal danger. He gathered himself and took a wide, graceful step to continue the turn, slicing downwards, angling to the left, until he cut through bone and sinew. Blood spurted in a thousand directions, coating the front of his uniform and spraying his face, but all he saw was the shocked face of his enemy as the man died even before his lifeless body crumpled to the deck, his neck broken and his jugular vein severed.

Then fire seared through James' left leg, and he dropped as though someone had kicked his feet out from under him. The pain robbed him of his voice and, unable to cry out, he could only look up in horror as the shipmate of the man he had just killed prepared for vengeance. James raised his arm in the antithesis of his previous killing stroke, to ward off the coming attack. The only sound he could make was a gasp that stuck deep in his throat.

#

That night somewhere in the Caribbean:  


Fighting his way up out of a tangle of grasping, brutal images trying to drag him back down, Jack saw one more, more clearly than the rest—that of James falling under a cutting blade. Blood gushed out of countless wounds, his beloved Jamie weakened and unable to fight back.

Jack screamed, and screamed again, echoing Jamie's cries as he died.

He woke fully at last, soaked with sweat as he sat up in bed on the Pearl. The sound of knocking permeated his consciousness. Somehow it registered in his mind that someone wanted in. He looked at his hands, noting how badly they shook. He stared at his fingers, clenching and unclenching them but then they were gone, erased; all he could see was Jamie sprawled on the deck of a ship, soaked in blood and lying still. Lying so still...

"Cap'n? Ye be a'right?"

"Jack!"

Anamaria's worried face loomed in front of him. Behind her were Gibbs and Marty. The men were trying not to look worried, but only succeeded in appearing more concerned than Ana.

"I'm all right," he told them. His voice sounded distant and muffled to his own ears. His throat felt raw and he rubbed at it, trying to ease the soreness away. "All right. Fine. Bad dream is all."

His shirt stuck to his torso. He didn't remember going to bed fully dressed. All day he had felt lethargic, crushed under the weight of the weather. The humidity had never bothered him before. He swung his legs off the bed, intending to go change his shirt. When he attempted to stand, however, the room spun and his legs lost all strength. He would have fallen if Gibbs hadn't caught him and eased him back onto the bed.

"If ye be a'right," Anamaria asked in a scolding tone, "why ye be cryin'?"

"I'm not crying," he insisted, even as his hand went unerringly to the wetness on his face. "Not crying."

"You need anything, Jack?" Gibbs asked gruffly.

"Just leave me alone."

#

They left him alone for days until they couldn't take it anymore.  


Anamaria walloped Jack across the back of the head, nearly sending him over the rail of the Pearl.

"Damn you, woman!" he snarled at her. "What'd you hit me for?"

She planted her fists on her hips and snarled right back at him. "Stupid! Makin' y'self miserable and the rest of us along wit ye! Whatever is botherin' ye, get over it an' be the Cap'n again! Else get off de ship!"

Jack took a step forward so that he and Anamaria were almost touching noses. "You cannot throw me off my own ship," he spoke with deceptive softness.

"De crew be tired of watchin' ye mope. We never do anyt'ing no more. We don' pillage no more. We just sail roun' an' roun'. We sick of it!" she spat. "Be a pirate, Cap'n, or we mutiny. That be a promise!"

She whirled away and stalked off. Jack watched her go, unable to muster up the energy to follow and yell some more. He was so tired all of a sudden. "You suck the life right out of a soul!" he called with his last reserves. He found he didn't really care anymore.

"She's right ye know."

Jack spun around to face Gibbs who was standing in the shadows. He knew the older sailor had been there for some time before Anamaria's arrival. Jack had chosen to ignore him.

"Say your bit and then go away, Mister Gibbs," Jack said coldly.

Gibbs straightened and folded his arms across his massive chest. "Aye. I will. Ye've been poor company, Jack. Snappin' at everyone who crosses yer path. Havin' us sail in circles like the woman says. Best ye find yer lover, whoever he is, fuck him and get back to the business of piratin'."

Jack leaned back and gave Gibbs his version of the evil eye. He even made wiggly gestures with his fingers. Gibbs just stood there unaffected and stared evenly back at him.

"Think on it, Jack. Ye got decisions to make." With that he turned and moved off.

Jack pursed his lips. He couldn't even get angry with Gibbs for speaking the truth. He did have decisions to make. Trouble was he needed advice and there was no one on the ship he could talk to about this.

#

He ordered a course set for Tortuga. A night or two of carousing would set them right and he could visit an old friend for solace and conversation.  
As soon as the Pearl put into port and was settled in for the night, Jack headed for the brothel, brushing off calls from the crew to join them for a drink. He had to wait for a while because Francis was with a customer. While he sat in the parlour he was propositioned by several of the employees and turned all of them down flatly with none of his usual charm. Since he was known there word got back to the madam who came to see him shortly. She sat on the settee next to him and looked him over. Sullenly, he turned to her.

"You look like hell warmed over, Sparrow."

"Thank you so much," he said coldly, all too aware of how much he sounded like James at his most imperious.

She studied him a moment longer before getting to her feet. "I'll see to it that Francis comes to get you as soon as he's done." Then she walked away and left him alone with his thoughts.

Jack folded his arms tightly across his chest and sat still as stone until Francis appeared about twenty minutes later. The young man was dressed in a silk robe the colour of an English winter's sun, barefoot, with his whitish blond hair dishevelled, obviously having come downstairs as soon as he heard about Jack. He swiftly crossed the room in his distinctive floating walk. When he saw Jack he looked at him in much the same way as his employer had.

A slender arm emerged from the wide sleeves of his robe. He reached out. Jack stared at the hand a moment and then took it, grateful for the warmth that immediately seeped into his cold bones. He gripped Francis more tightly than intended but could not make himself loosen his hold; he needed the touch of a friend more than he had realized. Francis squeezed back and gave him an encouraging smile as he led the way upstairs.

They reached Francis' private room when Jack balked just inside the door, backing up against it until it clicked shut. This was the place where it had all started for him and James. Suddenly his mind was filled with images of James scowling at him, the scowls softening into shy smiles and teasing grins. His lover's sarcastic remarks as he was in turn teased by Jack. James blushing in the beginning as Jack tried things on him that he had learned in the Orient, and in India, things that James had never heard of but took to like a duck to water. James in bed with his head thrown back in ecstasy, writhing under Jack's touch during their lovemaking and biting back his screams. James teaching Jack a thing or three, stroking, sucking, licking until Jack could not form a single lucid thought.

Jack slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

When Francis noticed that Jack had not followed him further into the room he returned to crouch at his side.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Jamie's dead."

A quick, sharp intake of breath was the only indication that the statement had affected Francis. He sat on the floor close to Jack, their shoulders and arms barely touching, yet the minimal contact was enough to give Jack strength to speak, albeit woodenly.

"He was killed in battle. There was a lot of blood and Jamie went down in the flash of a blade. The look on his face, Francis..." He shook his head setting trinkets jangling quietly. Somehow the fact that he had seen it happen in a dream meant nothing to him. He could feel it in his soul that James was lost to him forever.

Francis looked into Jack's eyes, his fine blond hair flowing forward. He brushed it back impatiently.

"Let's sit where it's more comfortable. I can help make you feel better."

Jack looked to where he indicated. "I love ye, lad, but I don't think I could..."

"All I want to do is help you rest. You look bloody awful, Jack. Have you been sleeping?"

"Drinking. Passing out. That's about it, ever since..." He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

Francis stood in one fluid motion and reached down for Jack's hand. "Come with me."

The numbness had so completely overwhelmed him it took a couple of moments for him to work up the energy to even lift his hand. When he did raise it, it was only a few inches. Francis bent down and helped him to stand.

"You've had a great shock, Jack. You need to rest before you can even begin to think clearly. Come with me," he repeated firmly, leading him over to sit on the bed. He pulled off Jack's boots, and then he gently urged him to lie down.

Jack sank into the goose down mattress, silent and rigid with grief. He had initially locked it away. If he did not acknowledge it then it wasn't real, but simply speaking of it just now to Francis had caused a crack to form in the thick wall he had put up around himself. He fought to keep the fissure from widening.

Francis knelt beside him, lightly running his hand up and down Jack's arm. Jack could see him in his peripheral vision but refused to meet his eyes. If he saw even a glimpse of pity there he knew he would break.

"This isn't like you, Jack, to be so still. And all of the colour has fled you." There was a soft almost-chuckle that made Jack briefly flick his eyes to Francis and then quickly away again. "You'll soon look like me, all white and pale."

"You're a beautiful lad, Francis," Jack croaked, his voice all but crushed under the weight on his soul.

"I hate to see you like this. Let me help?"

Jack hesitated but nodded. He couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He'd lost lovers before. Granted, none of them had lasted as long as James. None of them had made him want to give up pirating and work for the Crown. None of them had loved him back the way James had. Francis' concern and compassion finally broke through his wall. Jack reached out blindly to the younger man, needing, desperately needing someone to give him a lifeline that he could cling to, something that would prove to him he wasn't going under for the last time.

Francis pulled Jack into his arms, placing careful kisses on his brow and face, and then moving downwards to the corner of his mouth and chin. He laid Jack back down against the plump pillows and started to undress him. As each area of skin was exposed Francis kissed and licked and soothed. He soon had Jack bare and began massaging too-tense muscles as he came to them. Jack relaxed despite himself but laid there like a gutted fish, unable to participate, hardly able to react to the tender ministrations. He was not even in the room, but rather he was back in Port Royal in James' bed the last night they were together before Jack removed himself from his love's life.

He had gone there knowing it would be their last time together. He had stayed away for longer and longer periods of time prior to that, just to see if he could. He hated what he had done to James, what he had planned to do. He hated what it had done to his own sense of self. He remembered getting out of bed before dawn, dressing and then standing there watching Jamie sleep, trying to memorize his features, so unsuspecting, so trusting.

Gradually, Jack connected with the world again. He could feel the warm hands on his body, manipulating his sleeping flesh, awakening it, and he reached for his friend. Finally he was able to take what he needed rather than simply accepting what was given. Francis gave himself over then. He let Jack undress him; let him push the robe off his slender shoulders. Jack straddled him, bending down to press tiny kisses to the long neck. He couldn't kiss the young whore on the mouth, not yet. That was too intimate for him. He and James had never claimed exclusivity from one another, but Jack had not strayed to other beds. Even now, it felt wrong to kiss another. He knew James would not have minded, but he couldn't do it. Oddly enough, he also knew that James would not mind him having sex with Francis now.

Being the professional that he was, Francis led Jack even while supposedly lying submissively under him. The thing that had originally drawn Jack into a friendship with Francis was the young man's empathic ability. He seemed to know what to do at exactly the right times. Soon Jack found himself forgetting, just for a little while, slipping into a place where he needed to be in order to survive what came afterwards, in order to survive the loneliness of life without James.

Afterwards came all too soon.

His eyes met Francis' sorrow-filled pale blue ones. He reached out to his friend, pulling him into his arms. Resting his head on Jack's shoulder, Francis finally gave in to his grief and Jack, while not purged by any means, offered what comfort he could. It turned out to be very little as the tears fell in weighted silence from two pairs of eyes.

#

Later that night, when Jack left the brothel Francis went with him, leaving behind his old life and setting out to find a new one on the Pearl.  
#

Nearly two months passed before Jack had another nightmare. His moodiness during the last several days had worn on the nerves of Francis and the crew to the point where virtually no one was speaking to him unless necessary. Francis chose not to sleep with him that night, staying on deck instead. Perhaps it was because of the lack of a warm body in his bed—he had come to rely on Francis to keep the demons at bay—that the dreams started again.  
It started much the same as last time, only not a premonition but rather a re-telling of the horror he had previously witnessed in his dream state. Once again James fell under the blade of the enemy and, again, blood was everywhere, but this time instead of sinking into eternal slumber, James rose to fight again. His resurgence was awkward and painful to see, but his sword was lifted in vengeance and his thrusts were strong and true. Not until the enemy fell all around him did he sink back to the deck, weakened and bloodied, with his eyes rolling back in his head.

Jack bolted to a sitting position in his bed, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He swiped a hand over his face, and then stared at the shaking appendage as if unsure what it was. He was still lost in a haze of unthinking amazement when Francis slipped into the cabin.

"Jack?"

"Francis-darling." He gazed up into the fair face. "I think Jamie might be alive."

#

After he related both dreams Jack looked to Francis for his reaction. The young man kept his head down and his eyes lowered.  
"Well?"

Without looking up, Francis replied, "You based both his death and his... not being dead on dreams? Is that right?"

"Aye. I know how it sounds..."

"So you realize that you sound insane?" Francis's voice was cold.

"I know Jamie died that night," Jack said stubbornly.

Finally lifting his head, Francis asked, "But how can that be? How could he have died and yet live to conquer... whoever it is he was fighting?"

"I don't know! I just feel it in here," he slapped a hand over his heart, "that he is alive now. Francis, love, can't you be happy that Jamie is alive?"

"I could... I don't know what to think. I thought him dead and now you're telling me he's not." The fair head shook from side to side. "I love him too, Jack. It hurt too much. It still hurts."

Jack regarded him for a moment, eyes squinting as he thought. "Did you ever sleep with James?"

"Once." The reply was whispered. "On your last anniversary when you didn't come to Tortuga to meet him."

Jack supposed he ought to be outraged. Under normal circumstances, in a normal relationship, he could act the part of the jealous, cuckolded lover, but it did not fit into the world he and James had built. They had not restricted themselves that way and it was his own fault that he had missed their rendezvous. Besides, that wasn't who Jack Sparrow was. He flew free. How could he be upset when his lover sought comfort with the one other man who could give it to him?

"He got drunk and said you had been away more and more, and he missed you desperately. I tried to get him to sleep it off but he did not want to sleep. He asked me if we could fuck, since we never had before. I told him that we could only if he promised to tell you later."

"I never gave him the chance," Jack said sadly.

"Also, I made him swear to forgive you for not showing up as planned. He was worried, at first; frightened that something had happened to you. How dare you do that to him?"

" I was trying to see if I could..." He stopped. How to explain this?

"Could what?"

"If I could stay away from him. I left him, y'know, left him months ago. Before he left me."

"Why?" Francis was incredulous. "You love him. He loves you!"

"It's a long story." Jack was suddenly too weary to explain his motives, which, in retrospect still made sense to him. "Look, lad, it's for the best. He was being sent to Spain and we couldn't be together. I stayed away to make it easier for him to leave."

"Did you tell him that?"

"No."

"So you let him go thinking you no longer wanted him? If he did die it's because of you."

Jack burst off the bed. The moment his feet hit the floor he whirled around to point at Francis. His hand shook in his fury.

"No! You'll not pin that on me."

Francis's eyes filled and he shook his head miserably. "No. I take it back. I didn't mean it, Jack. I'm so sorry!"

All of Jack's anger fled in the face of Francis's distress. Jack returned to the bed and took him in his arms.

"Hush, lad. I know you didn't mean it." He rocked Francis trying to soothe him.

"It's all wrong, Jack. You and James are meant to be together. You need to find out for sure if he's alive or dead."

"Aye. I was just thinking that myself."

#

The manservant led Jack into the dining room of the Swann mansion a week after his decisive conversation with Francis. The Governor, Will and Elizabeth all looked up as he entered and hurried over to them.  


"Captain Sparrow, so good of you to visit us at mealtime," Governor Swann said with an artificial smile plastered on his face.

"Thank you for the invite, Guvn'r, but I'm here to ask the poppets if they've heard from James."

"Why yes," Elizabeth replied placing her napkin on the table next to her plate. "About a week ago a letter arrived from him. He..."

"When was it written?"

" I believe it was mid-April."

"The exact date, 'Lizabeth, if you please."

"Possibly the thirteenth."

Jack did some quick calculations in his head, remembering that first, awful dream. "Aye. That would have been after."

"After what, Jack?" Will asked.

Ignoring the question Jack asked one of his own. "Was he all right? Did he mention an injury of any kind?"

"Why yes! How did you know?" Elizabeth asked. "I was just about to tell you. He suffered a wound during a battle. He did not let on as to how severe it was. We found that out through a letter from Theodore Groves. It seems Captain Groves was writing to us behind James' back. He said something about how James would have his head if he found out about it."

"What about Jamie?" Jack asked impatiently. "How is he? How badly was he wounded?"

"He sounded his normal sardonic self. He's very good at hiding things so neither of us realized how bad his leg injury was until we received the letter from Groves, who wanted us to know the truth. He asked that we pass the information on to you, Jack. He's concerned about James' peace of mind."

"We didn't know how to contact you," Will added.

"Aye," Jack said absently, his mind on James on the far side of the world. "My fault for making m'self scarce like that. Should have kept in closer contact with you—and with James. S'all my fault."

"Don't blame yourself, Jack," Will said, trying to help. "He might have been injured anyway, whether or not you were with him."

"Could be, William. Could be. We'll never know, though, will we?"

#

James limped into the Admiral's office, leaning heavily on his cane.  


"Sit down before you fall down, Commodore," Stokes instructed, not unkindly.

Easing into the wingback chair, James settled against the cushioned back with a grateful sigh.

"Thank you, sir."

Stokes poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to James. He lifted his to take a sip, watching James over the rim.

"How's the leg?"

Stretching it out to the side so he would not bump it against the desk, James said, "The doctor said I'm very lucky I didn't lose it. As it is I will probably walk with at least a slight limp the rest of my life, so there is hope it will improve even more than it has already." He lifted his glass but lowered it again without drinking from it.

"From what I've heard you fought like a bloody tiger," Stokes said in an admiring tone. "Time and again, even before you transferred here, I heard tales of your brilliant swordsmanship. Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir," James murmured, embarrassed at the effusive praise.

"I understand you have a friend in Jack Sparrow."

"J-Jack? Uh, yes." James started at the abrupt change in subject. He wondered how Stokes knew about Jack. "I count him as a friend."

"Privateer. A former pirate."

"Yes. It took me by surprise when he accepted the letter of marque."

"I know the man. He saved my son's life. I'll always be indebted to him."

"I was not aware of that. I mean, that you know him... or the other... about your son."

"Colourful character. He can be confusing at times, but his heart is in the right place."

"Yes. That sounds like Jack all right."

"You're not drinking, man. That's a very fine brandy. Enjoy it."

James smiled tightly. He took a sip and another before draining the glass. Stokes nodded appreciatively.

"That's better. Have another."

James held out his glass and watched as Stokes poured more brandy. He sipped steadily as Stokes chatted about Navy business, until he finally got to the reason why he had asked James to his office.

"I'm recommending a promotion for you, Commodore. Or, should I say, Rear Admiral Norrington?"

"Rear Admiral?" James was not all that surprised at the promotion—simply by surviving that attack near Madeira almost guaranteed it, and he had managed to eliminate a fair number of the enemy in the process. He was a bit surprised at the swiftness by which his rise in rank happened, but Stokes had championed him since his arrival at Gibraltar so it was not altogether unusual. "Thank you, sir," he remembered to say.

"Your orders are to return to London where your new duties await you." Stokes held out his glass in a toast. "Congratulations, James. You're going home."

Home was not London.

James raised his glass to the Admiral and downed the contents in one gulp.

#

Theodore Groves watched his friend with narrowed eyes. They were supposed to be celebrating but James was doing a piss-poor job of it. It looked more like he was being sent to the gallows. Sitting across the table at the officer's club he sat hunched in a chair and was completely oblivious to his surroundings. He hadn't spoken in over twenty minutes. Neither had he touched his ale.  


Andrew nudged Theo with his elbow and jerked his head in James' direction. Theo nodded. He knew.

"Has your leg been giving you hell, James?" he asked.

The reaction was slow but at least they got one out of him. He lifted his eyes and then his head, and then focussed on them.

"My leg? It's fine."

"Fine as in it doesn't hurt at all? Or fine as in it hurts like bloody hell but you're just not going to admit it?"

At last a glimmer of a smile ghosted over James' lips. "Now how am I supposed to answer that?"

"Truthfully?" Andrew suggested into his mug.

James nodded. "Truthfully, it's a constant ache. In inclement weather it keeps me awake nights. However, I can walk. That's something for which to be thankful, and having good friends is another." He smiled outright then and Theo and Andrew grinned back at him.

"I must say, James," Theo commented, "you do seem in better spirits now."

"I came to a decision just now, Theo. It's time to move on. Jack made his choice to leave and there's nothing I can do about it. I have my career to think of." He saw their twin looks of dismay. "I am not giving up on having a personal life. I just have to give up on Jack, although it won't be easy."

Privately Theo believed Jack was the best thing that happened to James. Aloud he said, "I wish you good luck in finding happiness."

"As do I," Andrew added.

"Thank you, gentlemen."

#

Nearly seven weeks later, a letter addressed to Jack arrived in Port Royal. Jack happened to be visiting the Turners. He seldom sailed too far away these days so as not to be around when a ship from England arrived—just in case it carried exactly what the latest one did.  
"Is it from James?" Will asked.

"No. From Theodore Groves." Jack held it in his hands unopened. Suddenly he was afraid of a piece of paper.

"Why would Captain Groves be writing you?" Elizabeth asked, and then she faltered. Her eyes were wide. "Oh."

"Better open it, Jack."

"Aye." He took a deep breath and slit open the envelope with his finger, ignoring the letter-opener that Elizabeth offered. Quickly scanning the message he stopped and read it again from the beginning, feeling the tension flow out of him and a smile warm his lips.

"Well?" asked Elizabeth impatiently.

"What does it say, Jack?" Will asked.

"The good captain was kind enough to let me know that he believes James misses me. Says Jamie has been moody and not eating... drinking a bit too much as well. That's not good. James can't hold his drink the way he thinks he can. Here... every time Groves or Gillette... he went to England, too? Every time they talk about Port Royal James manages to get my name into the conversation. Oh, that's when he's drunk. Ah, Jamie." He shook his head and his hair chimed musically.

He folded the letter and shoved it back inside the raggedly torn envelope.

"So?" Will all but demanded more information.

"So he misses me. Although it's good to hear it doesn't change anything. My reasons for leaving him are the same. The circumstances are the same."

"Do you miss him?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"Every day is worse than the one before." He lost himself in thought for a moment before wrenching himself out of a daydream about James being back in his arms. "Well, best get back to the Pearl. Francis will be wondering what's happened to me."

"Who is Francis?" The suspicion in Elizabeth's voice was apparent.

"My lad."

"Your... lad?"

"He's a friend. Friend of Jamie's too. He's responsible for us getting together in Tortuga nearly three years ago."

"You and James started your affair in Tortuga? What on earth was James doing there?"

Jack smiled at his lovely young friend and told her, "He hired Francis."

"Hired? Francis is a—?

"Whore."

The Turners exchanged shocked glances.

"It's all right for James to have a pirate as a lover but not for him to buy sex?"

"Well, of... It is a bit of a shock to find this out about him. He seems so strait-laced."

"I'm not telling tales to say that Jamie has always preferred men to women. Not to say that he wouldn't sleep with a pretty lass if the opportunity presented itself. Your beautiful self, f'rinstance, 'Lizabeth."

"Well, that's a relief," she replied sarcastically. Will looked a trifle upset at Jack's revelation.

Jack continued. "Think about it. Where else would he find men that he could be with? His crew? Maybe, but he wouldn't take the chance. Groves was a possibility, Jamie always liked Groves but the good captain cast his eye elsewhere, and they are best friends besides."

"So Francis is your... lad," Elizabeth said, clearly still puzzled.

"Francis is my lover."

"But what about James? Did you break up with him to be with Francis?"

"Of course not! Francis loves him too."

Elizabeth stared for a moment and then shook her head. "This is getting entirely too complicated for me."

"I love James. I can't be with him. Francis offers comfort. I take it and give back what I can."

"How much?"

"How much what?"

"What do you pay Francis?"

Jack bristled and had the vague satisfaction of seeing Elizabeth take a step back. Will immediately put himself between them, reacting to a potential threat to his wife.

Jack began speaking rapidly and with some heat.

"Francis is with me of his own free will. I took him away from that other life because he's better than that. He had the start of a good education before his family turned its back on him and he ended up on the streets trying to survive. It was his looks that got him employment in a brothel and a place to live. James wanted to get him out of there almost from the beginning, as did I. He finally consented a few months ago and has been with me ever since, because he has nowhere else to go." Jack took a deep breath and hauled back his anger. "He's an intelligent young man who reads more'n I do. Never gave up getting an education, only now he educates himself."

Elizabeth met his stare headlong for a moment before walking over to a bookcase behind Jack. She returned with a stack of five or six books, which she handed to him.

"Please give these to Francis. Tell him that if he has read them previously, or would like others, he is welcome to come here and help himself. I'll speak to my father about making his library accessible as well."

Jack accepted the books with a pleased smile. "Thank you, 'Lizabeth. He'll enjoy these." Looking over the titles he saw that there were a couple he planned to read, too.

She leaned close and rose up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm sorry for my remarks. Bring Francis to dinner tonight. I'd like to meet him."

"As would I," Will added.

Jack grinned happily. More of his friends were going to be friends with each other. If he could just have James back in his life, his world would truly be right; but even though he thought about going to him the time wasn't right. Maybe it never would be.

If Elizabeth or Will noticed his cheerful mood fade they didn't let on. He forced himself to be more appreciative of Elizabeth's good will towards Francis. The lad would surely win her over with his charm. Jack found he was looking forward to seeing him interact with the Turners. Francis deserved some new people in his life and new places to visit. He had been getting quite moody as of late, no doubt due to the restrictions of living aboard a ship. Not everyone was cut out for such a life.

He took his leave and headed back to the Pearl. He was sure he had a bottle of wine that he had stolen... acquired from a plantation owner near New Orleans. It would make a good present to further smooth the way towards Elizabeth accepting Francis.

#

A ball was held partially in James' honour to welcome him to London. There were also three other post-captains recently transferred. James was one of two bachelors and therefore of great interest to the female attendees. While the other man positively preened as women surrounded him, James suffered the attentions of single ladies and their mothers until he wanted nothing more than to flee Admiral Gooding's mansion. Not one of them seemed capable of intelligent conversation. He wasn't ready to look towards bedding one of them. His heart was still too full of Jack. It would, however, make the evening much more bearable if he found someone his intellectual match.  
"Simpering, empty-headed..." he muttered under his breath as he stood near the French doors leading outside to the balcony. His fingers worried the smooth head of his cane, unerringly finding the single warp in the wood.

"I do hope that does not include me," said a light-hearted voice to his right.

James turned to face a woman slightly older than many of those present, but younger than he. Her dark eyes flashed merrily in an elfin face surrounded by a cloud of brunette hair. He stared at her wondering why she seemed familiar. It took him a breath or two but he thought perhaps it was because she superficially resembled Jack, or perhaps he was missing his erstwhile lover more and more these days. Heaven knew the nights were long and lonely, and spent staring into the darkness or striving to pleasure himself where no other's hand had touched him in far too long. The woman smiled up at him and raised an eyebrow.

It took him a moment but he became conscious of the fact that he was supposed to say something. "Oh. I, uh, did not mean..."

"I did not think you did. After all, you did not even know I was present in this room until now. I was overcome with the urge to tease a man to whom I have not been properly introduced."

There was no one else nearby to make the introductions, so James took her hand and bowed slightly over it. "James Norrington, Miss...?"

"Sarah Woodbridge."

"At your service, Miss Woodbridge."

"So you are the guest of honour."

"Yes, I suppose I am. One of several, that is."

"You looked uncomfortable standing over here by your lonesome."

James was unsure how to respond to that. His feelings were not to be discussed with strange, forward women. He finally managed a tight smile.

Miss Woodbridge noted his expression and said, "For the record, I am not one of the simpering, empty-headed gold diggers you're avoiding. I am not even in the market for a husband. And it's Mrs. Woodbridge, not Miss."

"I do beg your pardon, Madam. Your husband is a naval officer?"

"My husband is dead," she replied, confounding James. "He was, however, captain of the Lady Britannia."

"I had heard of him—a fine man. Very brave officer. I was sorry to hear when his ship went down."

"With all hands. Yes. Such is the life of a sailor." She did not sound bitter but rather, matter-of-fact, as if she accepted the fate of her husband and had moved on. To James' recollection the Lady Britannia had sunk barely a year past.

Perhaps noting his quizzical expression she said, "Do not get me wrong, sir. I loved my husband dearly, but I've always found it best to accept facts as they are handed to me. There's not a lot of good to be accomplished by wailing and tearing one's hair out over things past."

He looked at Sarah with new eyes. She was a most remarkable woman.

The call came then for dinner. James said, "If you are not otherwise promised I would be pleased if you would be my companion for dinner."

"And I would be delighted."

As she took his arm and smiled up at him James felt a warmth flood through him, chasing away the permanent chill from the autumn air. Remarkable.

#

Jack stayed close to Port Royal keeping his ears open for any more information about James, but news of their former Commodore was quite scarce. Finally, a letter arrived from James himself, sent to Elizabeth and Will. Jack arrived at their cottage one evening to have Elizabeth thrust it into his hands. He read it quickly and then read it again more slowly so as to savour the only words from James he'd been privy to in far too long.  


"Admiral. He made Admiral," he stated with pride.

"Rear Admiral," Elizabeth corrected gently.

"Aye, but it won't be long now. His da was misguided. Meant well but didn't stop to consider what he was really doing to Jamie. 'Course, Jamie would have been promoted to Admiral without his interference, so all he did was hurry things up." He glanced up from the letter, reluctant to part from this tiny piece of James even if it was only his handwriting. "I need to make ready to sail."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I should have done months ago. I'm going to him."

The time was right at last.

#

"Francis, will you come with us to England? The Pearl has taken a shine to you. She likes how you brighten our days." Jack smiled hopefully.  
The young man blinked in surprise. He had stayed on the ship partly since he had nowhere else to go, but mostly because he wanted to be with Jack.

"England?"

"Aye. I'm going to see Jamie."

"Oh." Francis studied Jack's face and noted the animation, the glow from within. Now that Jack had reached a decision to do what he ought to have done ages ago, in the face of the simple truth—Jack loved James, Francis felt his heart stutter.

"Francis-love," Jack had his arms around Francis's shoulders, supporting him. "You just went whiter than normal. Are you all right?"

His insides were being strangled with the strength of comprehension. He managed a tiny nod.

"Yes. Fine."

"So, will you come with us?"

I have nowhere else to go. "Yes. Of course."

"Excellent!" Jack hugged and then released him. "We're going to stock up on supplies and fresh water in Tortuga, and then we'll be on our way."

As he left the cabin, Francis could only stare after him. He was dismayed at his reaction to the news. Jack loved James. Any fool who knew them could see that. Francis wanted them to be together. They belonged to each other and to no one else. So why was he suddenly so miserable?

He knew why.

"I love you, Jack," he said to the empty cabin.

 

The crisp air of late autumn was invigorating. It was also making his leg ache more than ever, but James refused to let it show. Not that he was fooling anyone other than himself. No, perhaps not even himself. He rubbed ruefully at his thigh.  


Beside him, Sarah walked with one hand lightly resting on his right arm, head held high with the assurance of a woman who could manage quite well on her own, thank you, as she had told him a time or two, but who was perfectly at ease on the arm of a Rear Admiral. Being the intended of a man of his rank gave her a certain status, but she cared not a whit for such things, never had, much to the annoyance of her late husband, she had said. James felt little of that exasperation, since he had all but dismissed such notions from his own life the day he took up with Jack Sparrow. He was guilty of many things but he was not a hypocrite. How could he judge Sarah when he did not strictly follow the rules of society himself? Neither of them was terribly radical in their ways, but both were slightly rebellious against the constraints of their class. It made for a good match.

He smiled down at her as they walked. Sarah wished to go to tea at her favourite restaurant near the Admiralty and so that was what they were doing this fine, bright day. A carriage rolled by just then, its wheels spinning through a puddle and spraying muddy water in their path. James kept Sarah tucked firmly by his side, shielding her with his body.

"Are you all right?" he asked solicitously.

"I am. Thank you, James."

He glanced down at his uniform. There were a few splatters of mud on his stockings but those were barely noticeable. His shoes seemed to be in near ruin, however.

"Oh, your shoes!" Sarah exclaimed.

"I have others," he said, one part of his mind surprised at the nonchalance of his reply. He was far from vain, but the dictates of his rank forced him to maintain a certain amount of decorum. He glanced over at Sarah, the smile that was ever present on his lips these days falling away as he caught sight of a flash of scarlet further ahead.

The bustle of the street suddenly muted, becoming less intense. Colours faded. Sound lessened to a painful quiet. The breath in James' chest caught and held.

"James?" Sarah's voice came from far, far away.

Another carriage swept by.

Gone.

"James? Are you all right?"

He took a step forward and then another. Sarah lightly touched his arm bringing his attention back to her.

"What? Yes. I'm fine."

"You saw something?"

"I thought I did." Had he? Was it Jack? He hardly dared think his name. "Perhaps a trick of the light. Let us go. We'll miss tea."

#

It became something of a habit of theirs to take tea at the same establishment several times a week, something James encouraged in hopes of seeing him again. Time passed in a blur of work and social obligations and the whirlwind to which he found himself engaged. Sarah thrived on making him happy. She was very good at upholding their position in the London social order, yet was just as content to spend quiet evenings by the fire crocheting while he read. They had already settled into a kind of married life without benefit of clergy. To his pleasure James discovered that underneath the public refinements Sarah was a lusty wench, as he referred to her in jest and to her great amusement. Although they used contraception he worried that she would become pregnant before they wed. Sarah waved off any such concerns.  
Finally, about five weeks after the day he had begun to think of as "Seeing the Apparition", he saw him again.

Less than twenty feet from where they stood was Jack Sparrow looking back at him with what James supposed was the same startled stare he wore. It was glaringly obvious that Jack was a pirate. Perhaps no longer in fact, but his dress confirmed it. He wore a long battered coat with the collar turned up against air that was much cooler than what he was accustomed to in the Caribbean. His vivid red headscarf peeked out from under his leather tricorn hat, which had also seen better days. A brilliant white shirt, tan breeches and his well-worn boots finished it off. The outfit was so foreign in comparison to the latest fashions on London's streets that James simply stared for a moment, before his mind screamed at him that it was Jack, it was really Jack.

Quite suddenly, Jack stood in front of them. How he had moved without James seeing him do it, even while staring at him it was a question for the ages. But then, this was Jack.

It really was Jack.

Despite his attempt to hold back his joy he smiled broadly. Jack mirrored him and took another step closer, eagerly searching James' face for something only he knew. Then he noticed Sarah, swept off his hat and bowed low.

"Good day to you, Miss...?"

"This is Mrs. Woodbridge. Sarah, this is Jack Sparrow—an old friend from Port Royal."

Jack cooed and crowed and thoroughly charmed Sarah who charmed right back.

"And how is it you two pretties know each other?" Jack asked as if suddenly remembering James' presence.

"Sarah and I are to be married, Jack." Oh how those words cut him deeply. To say them to Jack...

In turn, a peculiar expression passed over Jack's face, one that hurt James even more than making the introduction. Then Jack recovered with aplomb and smiled so that his gold teeth caught the sun. Sarah seemed fascinated by the teeth and by Jack's clothing, and most especially by Jack himself. The two of them chattered as if old friends, leaving James on a knife's edge of emotion.

Somehow they ended up having tea with Jack, who conducted himself with impeccable manners, much to James' relief. He knew Jack was capable of it, but he also knew Jack could pretend to be an uncouth fool when he chose to do so. Fortunately, this was not one of those times. He did, however, watch James' interaction with Sarah rather closely.

Jack's presence at a restaurant frequented mainly by Naval officers caused a mild sensation. He was nearly thrown out based solely on appearance but James intervened, explaining about the letter of marque. That soothed disgruntled feelings and soon, not to James' surprise, Jack was holding court for a room full of Lieutenants, Captains and Post-Captains and their wives. James sat back and watched and listened, drinking in the sight of his former lover. How he had missed witnessing Jack Sparrow exuding his full charm on people. How he had missed just seeing Jack. Every now and then Sarah would turn to James and pat his hand as if to reassure him of something. He couldn't think what that might be.

And then it was over. It was time to leave and they were out on the street once again.

"Will you have dinner with us, Captain Sparrow?" Sarah asked.

For a moment James dared to hope that Jack would say yes, and then Jack spoke, proving once again that he was a smart, intuitive man.

"No." He flicked a poignant glance at James. "Thank you for the invite, though. I'd best be getting back to my ship. The crew is upset enough that we're in England during a cold weather season."

"This isn't particularly cold," Sarah smiled.

"To those that's rarely been out of the Caribbean it is," Jack countered with his own smile.

"You are right, of course. Forgive me for speaking without thinking." Sarah tipped her head to the side in that way she had of indicating her sincerity and, perhaps, a touch of needing to be liked that James always felt was entirely unnecessary. Everyone liked Sarah.

Then Jack tipped his head to the side and the two of them grinned at one another, and James suddenly felt a headache start up behind his eyes. They are so much alike. The revelation came unbidden to his mind. He had noticed the vague physical resemblance the night he met Sarah, but thought no more on it after that. Now more than that was so obvious. They were both free spirits, both had an impish quality that was at once endearing and exasperating. Both were honest when it suited them, although Sarah would never go so far as to lie. However, she had rather inventive ways of getting around the truth. And now he was noticing similar mannerisms. His headache grew in intensity.

Jack's eyes flickered his way, his gaze softening minutely. Then a line appeared between his brows.

"I think James is getting a headache. Best take him home and comfort him."

James' heart constricted because Jack had noticed his discomfort. He knew him so well.

Sarah looked intently between them both, her dark, intelligent eyes narrowing in thought. Whatever she was thinking was not spoken aloud. Instead she said, "Perhaps I should."

"James does not need to be coddled," James intoned crankily. "Besides, I have work to do."

"In that case, perhaps Captain Sparrow might accompany me to my next stop before he disappears into the night?"

Sarah had inadvertently hit upon the very thing Jack had done the last time that he and James had been together. A cold fist balled up in James' gut. Really, these two were hazardous to his health. Perhaps he should be the one to sneak off and become a pirate. He could do it, he fantasized, because he knew of a lot of unsavoury ports and he was a good sailor.

"I'd be delighted, madam. You could help give me ideas for a wedding present for the two of you. When are the nuptials to be?" There was something in Jack's voice that told James he was not as cheerful as he strived to sound, but it was only obvious to someone who knew him and who was listening for such a clue. Sarah seemed unaware.

James intervened before this went too far. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Sarah. It would be unseemly for you to spend too much time in the company of a man who is not your fiancée."

"I promise not to run off with him, James." Sarah actually laughed at the notion and so did Jack, but James could see he was getting ideas. Whether he followed up on them was another matter.

"And I promise not to bundle her up and stow her in the hold of the Pearl." Jack was smiling but James could see he was hurt.

"I trust you both, with all my being, but I still think it's not a good idea."

Jack shrugged. "No matter. As I said, the crew is not happy." To Sarah he said, "If I stay away too long they might head home without me."

All but pouting, Sarah said, "Then promise you will come and see us again before you leave these waters. That is, if you are not leaving today."

"Nay. We'll be here another day or two. I cannot promise that I'll come back, though. I'd hate to make promises I might not be able to keep." He took Sarah's hand and bowed over it, placing a light kiss on the back of it. Then he turned, his hand fluttering over James' arm which he pulled back before he could actually touch him. "Good to see you again, Jamie." His voice was soft and low. And then he was gone, weaving and swishing his way through the crowds.

James watched until he lost sight of the red scarf. When he turned Sarah was staring thoughtfully at him. He met her gaze directly and she smiled.

"I have errands to run and you have work to do. I shall see you for dinner?"

"Of course." James studied her lovely face and tried not to make mental comparisons with Jack's features.

Sarah smiled uncertainly and walked away.

#

Three uneventful days passed. James went down to the docks to check on some naval business that was not being handled the way he saw fit. He still despised the paperwork that came part and parcel with his job, so he readily accepted any opportunity to get out and closer to the sea. Being a physical presence for his men helped with morale and discipline. He had always been a hands-on type of commander.  


He supposed, in retrospect, he should not have been surprised when a hand reached out from behind a stack of crates, snagged his wrist and dragged him down an alley. Upon determining that it was not a murderer or a cutpurse, he dug his heels in for but a moment and then followed willingly, hating himself for his weakness every step of the way.

"Where are we going?"

"We need to talk."

"How did you know I would come down here?"

"You're a sailor. Sailors always come down to the docks—even high-falutin' Admirals." Jack shot over his shoulder.

They did not, as James half-expected, stop for a quick grope in the shadowed recesses. Instead, Jack led him through a doorway and up some stairs. Wherever it was that they were the smell of cooked fish assaulted James' nose. He leaned heavily on his cane, as there was no banister. Stairs had been the bane of his existence since he was wounded. Using the big muscle in his thigh in order to climb the stairs meant that the flesh under the scar was throbbing by the time he reached the top.

He entered the room into which Jack had disappeared and sat heavily on the single, rickety chair in the corner. Jack sprawled on the narrow bed with feline grace. James regarded him warily.

"Is this where you live when you're not on the Pearl?"

"Rented it for the day," was the laconic reply, accompanied by a sly wink.

James bristled. "I am not here to provide you with a quick lay."

Sitting up, Jack swung his legs around so that his feet hit the floor in a single thump. "Never said I wanted to fuck you. Maybe I bring a whore here. In fact, I did bring a whore here... on the Pearl. Francis and I are together now."

Stung, James swallowed his anger. To give himself time to gather his thoughts he stared at the floor, unconsciously massaging his leg. When he looked up again he noted that Jack was still staring at him.

"Why did you leave?" James asked.

"To protect you. To make sure you did the right thing."

"How dare you presume to know what is the right thing for me?"

"Don't go getting high and mighty with me. You're soundin' like your da."

Despite himself, James could not suppress a shudder at that comparison.

"Have you seen him since you came here?" Jack asked, his voice softening slightly.

"Thankfully, no. He is invited to the wedding—Sarah insisted. She has very little family—a cousin or two in the country—and so she wants to meet mine. Even though she and my mother ought to get along, I tried to dissuade her but she's rather wilful."

"Aye. She reminds me of 'Lizabeth."

Taken aback, James said, "You think so?"

Jack nodded, setting his braids jumping. James suddenly wanted to tangle his hands in them. Instead he clutched the cane beside him more tightly.

"Feisty, headstrong, too, I'll wager."

"Yes," James sighed.

Jack laughed. He reached across and playfully swatted at James' leg—his sore one. James flinched and instinctively jerked it away to protect it. He twisted away and something in his leg pulled. He clapped his hand over it and rubbed firmly which did not help at all.

Jack watched with concerned dark eyes. "Are you all right, Jamie-love?"

"I will be," James tried not to react to the endearment. He was far too jumpy today. "I should go." But when he tried to stand he found it was too soon. "Perhaps a moment..."

"I wasn't going to hurt you just now," Jack said sadly.

"I know. My own fault," James murmured. He lifted his eyes and saw Jack was within arm's reach. "I've missed you, Jack. When you left I was hurt and bewildered and confused." He laughed self-consciously. "I sound like a maiden pining for her lost lover, but I can understand the feelings of such a one. Neither of us has ever been good at talking about our feelings. It took us until that last night to declare our love. However, I am aware of present circumstances and lack of time, and I wanted you to know that before you vanish out of my life again."

Jack shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "'ve always loved weddings, but despite what I told your lovely lass, I could not attend yours. I could not bear to see you wedded to another. Not even to her. If I was going to pick out a wife for you, Jamie, I could not find a better one than your pretty Sarah. That's plain even after a short acquaintance. She's good for you. She'll drag you out of your brooding and likely harp on you until you stop being so stiff-necked. And she can give you children."

James nodded absently. He agreed with all of those things, but it did not help lighten his heart at the thought of Jack leaving again. They would not meet again. Of that he was certain.

Jack was still speaking. "You'd make a good da, Jamie. Now, little ones could really liven you up. I can see you playin' with 'em on your grand expanse of lawn behind your huge manor house when you're a full-fledged Admiral. And their children can dote on you in your old age when you're a grandda in your rocking chair on the verandah, complaining about your rheumatiz."

His eyes widened as he realized he had inadvertently reminded James of his wounded leg—as if James could forget.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"It's fine," he lied. The colder weather was making it ache abominably.

Jack reached over to a wobbly table. With a flourish he presented a small metal container. When he prised off the lid James smelled mint rather strongly.

"I noticed you leanin' on your cane the other day... fetched this salve from my cabin. It's good for aches like that. Won't cure it but it will make it more bearable. If you rub it into the skin it'll warm it from the inside out. Or maybe that's the outside in. One of them."

He handed it over and James took it from him, being careful not to let their fingers brush. He took a cautious sniff and his eyes watered slightly.

"Tiger balm, it's called. Picked it up in Singapore."

"What if you need it?"

"I'll go to Singapore and get some more." Suddenly Jack's expression brightened. He offered, "I could rub it on your leg."

James shook his head, not trusting himself to speak beyond saying, "No." If he let Jack touch him it would be his undoing. He had to remember Sarah, for he would not betray her.

But then Jack leaned in close enough that James could feel the heat from his body, and all thoughts of his betrothed fled his mind. Without meaning to, he leaned toward Jack until those dark, dark eyes filled his sight, and then Jack was straddling his lap, thighs squeezing thighs, and they were locked in a grasping embrace. Jack's tongue demanded entrance to his mouth so James opened to it. Jack reached between them and cupped James' promising erection, squeezing so that it swelled into his hand. James groaned into Jack's mouth and clutched at his shoulders, sliding his hands down the lean body until he gripped Jack's ass, and pulled him flush against his body, trapping his hand. When Jack squirmed impatiently something snapped deep inside James and cold hard reality washed over him. He pushed Jack away but only far enough so that he could breathe and think. Jack remained on his lap, his weight heavy on James' injured leg but not so that he felt much discomfort. He dropped his head, feeling Jack's hot breath down his neck.

"No. This is wrong. Sarah... I can't. I cannot betray her. We're promised, Jack. I... made a promise to her and I will not break it." He looked up into Jack's face silently pleading for understanding.

It was Jack's turn to look down, his gaze going out of focus for a moment. When he lifted his head he nodded.

"Aye. I'm sorry, James. Wasn't my intention to come here to seduce you. Seeing you with your lass made me crazy for a bit, and s'my fault that you and I are apart. Just seeing you again stirs my blood. I meant what I said in that note, Jamie." He stared intently until James nodded.

I do love you, with all my heart it had read.

"I know you did. And I understand why you left. We cannot be together as long as I have my career... and now Sarah. Oh, Jack. She's wonderful and I do love her very much, but..."

Jack clapped a hand over James' mouth. "No! Don't say it. I won't be able to walk away again."

Slowly he removed the hand, and James' lips tingled with the desire to kiss the palm drifting over them. James slowly shook his head.

"It's best that we part again. It's no good otherwise." Just saying the words made his heart grow heavy.

"Aye," Jack's voice was a hoarse whisper. James nearly pulled him back as his pirate got off his lap, only he was no longer *his* pirate.

He took a deep steadying breath. "Francis, is it? You'll be in capable hands. That young man has a strong protective streak." He hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage before he could speak. "Jack, that time we did not spend our anniversary together... he and I..."

"Hush. He told me and I understand why you slept with him. I'm glad he was there to be with you when I wasn't. He's a good lad. You tell Groves to keep an eye on you as well."

"Theo is the reason I'm still alive. If not for him I'd have literally lost my head instead of merely being stuck in the leg by that sword. He deflected the blow."

"Then he has all of my gratitude." The corners of Jack's mouth turned downward. "Ah, Jamie. It's time."

He was right. There was no sense dragging this out any more than they already had.

James levered himself to his feet. His leg throbbed dully. Jack's gaze flicked down when James automatically massaged it, and shot back up, concern and apology warring for dominance in his expression. James noticed and waved him off.

"It's not your fault, Jack. The weather, stairs, simply standing or walking can affect it."

Jack turned as if looking for something on the floor. When he spotted it he bent to pick up the small tin of balm, and held it out. James had dropped it when Jack had unexpectedly sat on his lap.

"So your leg is fine, is it?" He pressed it into James' hands. "This will help."

James stared at the small object. How was he to use it when every time he saw it he would think of Jack?

"I'll walk down with you," Jack offered, reaching to take his arm.

James flinched, shifting away from his hand, already hardening himself towards life without him. At least this time he had a say in the decision, although that did not make it any easier.

"I should do this alone. Please wait here until I'm gone."

Jack nodded in the periphery of James' vision. James nodded, too, and turned away, not daring to look directly at him. As he hobbled down the hollow-sounding staircase he mentally recited all of the reasons why it was a good idea to walk out of that room, down those stairs and out of the building. Sarah was at the top of the list, followed closely by his career. He did it out of self-defence against the overwhelming feeling that leaving was utterly the wrong thing to do.

Jack Sparrow was the love of his life and that would never change.

#

The years passed slowly and for that James was both grateful and unsettled. He and Sarah were wed the spring after the last time he saw Jack. Eleven months later their daughter was born. When he stood in the nursery gazing down at the sleeping bundle, he stood in awe that Katherine—Katie—was a part of him in a way few human beings on the good earth were. She carried his blood, his and Sarah's. He could already tell that she was going to be exactly like her mother in temperament and steeled himself for an interesting life, to put it mildly.

At Sarah's continued insistence, he and his father saw each other more often. James and his little family made the trip to Portsmouth several times a year because his parents were growing older and it was easier for the younger generations to travel. His reunions with his mother were joyful. They spent hours talking and catching up. It took much longer until he and Reginald were able to spend more than ten minutes in the same room without James wanting to throttle him or stalk out and go back to London. It took nearly three years before they were comfortable enough with each other to go for walks down to the stables and talk about the horses and dogs, or go to the docks where James explained each type of sail on a brigantine and a frigate, and Reginald actually listened and asked questions. His father was long retired, having sold his chandlery business, and he moved more slowly with each passing year. It seemed he mellowed with age, or perhaps James did. Certainly, James was more tolerant of his father's personality quirks.

He and Sarah and Katie were visiting the weekend Reginald went to sleep early on a Saturday night and did not wake up on the Sunday. They stayed for the funeral, and tried to convince James' mother to return to London with them. But she was determined to remain in her own home. Her brother and sister-in-law lived down the road and promised to call on her often, and James' brothers were also within hailing distance.

James received word the following month that his mother had also passed on. His brothers told him to select whatever he wanted from their parents' belongings. He took nothing, except mixed feelings about his childhood and tried to reconcile those memories with more recent ones. He drove away in the carriage knowing he would never again set foot in that house.

#

His marriage to Sarah was a good one. It was solid and, while no longer filled with a lot of passion, it was a loving union. They shared a genuine fondness for one another, enjoying a true friendship. Katie was his world, however. As she grew and showed a fascination with the sea he was both proud and afraid. He made sure there were no books on piracy in the house.

#

When Sarah began suffering occasional upsets in her digestion they both put it down to the stress of raising a wilful child like Katie. When the problems began to increase and other things cropped up they decided it was time to see a specialist in London. James wanted to go with her, but Sarah insisted on going alone. James over-rode her request and went with her.

#

After innumerable tests Dr. Matheson told Sarah she could get dressed and he came out from behind the curtain. James noted how he avoided looking at him until Sarah emerged and sat next to him, her hand tightly clasping his. His searching look in her face told him that Sarah was frightened. Her skin was white and her eyes huge in a pinched face. Dark circles emphasized her pallor. She looked considerably worse than she had when she first entered the office.  
They sat together in nervous silence until the doctor finally turned to them.

He smiled briefly without real feeling, as if the news he had to deliver was too much for him to make the effort at comforting them. His words proved it to James.

"It's not good, I'm afraid. Sarah, there is a problem with your womb. It is difficult to tell exactly what is happening to you, but for certain it is not wise to bear any more children."

Sarah breathed out shakily. "We have a daughter but we hoped for a son as well."

Matheson stared at her for a long moment before saying, "You are pregnant now."

Sarah turned to James in delighted surprise and he reached out to hug her. The doctor's next words brought him up short.

"I recommend terminating the pregnancy. To carry this child to term would be extremely dangerous for both of you. It could kill you."

James stared at him in disbelief. Matheson was a kindly, white-haired man with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose. He could have been someone's grandfather. Right now he was the executioner.

Her voice trembling, Sarah said firmly, "I want to have this baby."

"Sarah..."

"No, James. I will have this baby."

Even though he was terrified that he would lose her and the child both, James knew that arguing was useless. He could not force her to do something when she felt that strongly about it. He reached for her hand and squeezed gently.

"Then *we* will have the baby." Her tremulous smile eased his frantically pounding heart just a little.

#

Francis gave up on Jack their third winter together. He packed his single bag of possessions and asked to be dropped off in Tortuga. Jack let him go without a fight. They had fought enough for two lifetimes. It would be better this way.  
The crew was sad to see Francis go because he was an amiable young man and everyone liked him. On the other hand, maybe now the ship would not ring through the night with shouts and swearing and accusations.

Jack only went to the rail to watch Francis leave when the former whore was nearly out of sight. The captain's expression was unreadable as Anamaria drifted over to stand next to him. She stared hard at him and then went below without a word

Jack remained where he was for hours and then turned and walked stiffly to his cabin. His naturally graceful gait was hampered now by arthritis and made worse by the sea air, but he never complained within anyone's hearing.

#

"I'm going to resign my commission."  


The words had been in his throat for hours and now, as James lay in bed staring at the ceiling because he could not concentrate on the book in his hands, they tumbled out to be heard by his wife rather than to continue rattling around in his head.

Sarah put down her book and peered at him over her reading glasses.

"You're going to do what?" she asked, looking genuinely confused as if she had not heard his words.

"I've achieved much in my career but I learned years ago that it's life itself that is precious. I..."

"Who taught you that?" she asked, interrupting his rehearsed speech.

"Excuse me?" He was caught short by the question. He thought she would give him trouble over his decision. This non sequitur was unexpected.

"From whom did you learn such a lesson?"

James blinked in surprise, wondering where this conversation was going.

Sarah shifted awkwardly against the pillows. At seven months into her pregnancy she was putting on weight at a rapid pace and already found her movements somewhat restricted. James reached over and assisted her in sitting up. When she was settled she removed her glasses and gave him a pointed look unhindered by the lenses.

"Was there someone you wanted to give up your career for?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to tease her about her grammar, but wisely decided it was not in his best interests to do so. He recognized her mood. It was a better idea to answer her truthfully but carefully. He was not a stupid man.

"Yes. There was."

"Elizabeth Swann?"

"God no. I mean," he cleared his throat in embarrassment, "we never knew each other well enough to get to that point."

"So there was someone else?"

He had walked right into that one. If he answered yes to that she would want to know who his lover was. If he answered no he would be lying to her. He had never lied to her.

"James?"

"Sarah."

"I never thought you were celibate during your time spent in Jamaica."

A rueful chuckle escaped him. "I very nearly was. My social life mainly consisted of attending formal balls and avoiding entanglements with grasping, young women who could only see my uniform and not who I was underneath."

Sarah's lips drew into a tight line, worrying James with that reaction. But then she spoke.

"If they had seen what's underneath the uniform you would likely have been married off long ago." She glanced at him sideways and lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

"Sarah!" James blushed furiously. He still did not respond gracefully to teasing. Some things just never changed.

"I'm glad that didn't happen, because then I would not have met you." She reached for his hand, caressing the back of it with her thumb. He turned it over to capture her fingers in his own.

A tingle in his groin led him to hope that she was dropping the subject of past lovers, or at least would not ask for names, and maybe they could do other things. How was he to tell her that he mainly slept with men before he met her? How could he tell her about Jack?

Turning on her side Sarah pulled her hand free and laid it on his chest. Her big dark eyes studied him intently.

"Darling, I won't put you on the spot by demanding you tell me all about your love life before we met. If I wanted to know that it would have happened long before now. Besides, we have something more important to talk of. You want to give up your career? Why, James?"

"For you," he replied promptly. "For Katie, and for the new baby. I've gone as far as I'm going in my career. There are too many officers ahead of me with more prizes under their belts, who have been waiting longer than I have."

"Oh, sweetheart..."

"It's fine. I accepted this as fact long ago. In any case, I'd much rather spend my time with my family." He picked up her hand again and brought it to his lips. "Maybe I can take up gardening or fishing or woodcarving or something else that will get me out of the house and out from under foot, so I won't be a bother to you and the ladies who come to tea."

Sarah smiled indulgently at his attempt at humour, but it was brief.

"Of course you will get promoted again. If you are thinking of resigning because of my health, then you had best think again. I plan to be around to coddle Katie's children. I need you to be strong for yourself. Not for me. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can." The idea of Sarah not being in his life or to guide Katie as she grew was a subject neither had voiced until now. He did not even like to think about it. Yet again he marvelled at the idea that he could face down bloodthirsty pirates and crazed, sword-wielding ruffians, yet he shied from thoughts of losing loved ones like a spooked horse.

"Listen to me." James implored Sarah with his eyes. It was time to reveal some of his secret. "There is something I must tell you. I did have a lover when I lived in Port Royal, someone who meant the world to me, and when we parted because of my career it broke my heart. I should have resigned then for the sake of that love, but I did not. I've always regretted it. That is, until I met and fell in love with you. This is my last chance to put my life before my career. I want to do this."

Sarah stared back at him, eyes wide as she listened to him.

"I don't understand. How could your career interfere with your romance?"

James tried to continue to meet her gaze but his eyes dropped of their own volition. Her sudden intake of breath brought them back up again.

"Was she... unsuitable in some way?"

He nodded jerkily, partly relieved that she had not guessed the entire truth and partly appalled that he was assenting to that much of a lie. "Please don't ask me any more about this matter. It's in the past. You are my present and my future."

Sarah moved closer and he took her into his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head as she clung to him—seeking or perhaps offering comfort, her head burrowing into his chest. He hoped she could not hear his heart cracking. He had not thought that simply stating the words that banished Jack to the past would make losing him hurt this badly all over again.

"We should move to Port Royal."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"It is where you think of home, is it not? What would keep us here after you resign? Our family is here in this house, therefore we can move to Jamaica. I for one would certainly appreciate the warmer weather."

"It's not simply warmer there," he corrected absently, "it is hot."

"I don't mind."

"You would mind this."

"James, please stop being difficult. I'm on your side."

"Forgive me?" He lightly brushed his fingers over her swollen stomach, already considering the idea of moving back home.

"James?"

There was something in the way she said his name that warned James she was upset. "What's wrong, my dear?"

"It's nothing."

"Sarah?"

She caught at his roving hands, slapping playfully at them. "It's just... nothing."

"Haven't we always been honest with one another?"

"I have. It's your honesty of which I'm not so certain."

James pushed himself up on the pillows and looked down at her. "What does that mean?"

"You've never been completely happy here. James, your heart lies in the Caribbean. Anyone can see that. When your friend Jack was here... the way your face lit up. I want you to look like that again."

He hoped she had not guessed the true nature of his relationship with Jack. Not that it mattered any more. The last dozen or so letters from Will and Elizabeth had told of their own children—three now—and Weatherby Swann's retirement as Governor along with his interest in a widow. It looked like marriage was in the offing. Not a single mention of Jack.

"Do you really? You seem more to be upset about something."

She laughed. "I am a pregnant lady. I reserve the right to be upset about something every day until our child is born." Then she took his hand and placed it back on her abdomen. He understood why when he felt the baby move within.

"A boy! Surely it is."

"I have no reason to doubt such a prediction. You will have a son, James."

#

Matthew Jonathan Norrington was born forty-nine days later. Despite a prolonged and difficult birth, Sarah recovered to her previous strength and vitality. Matthew thrived, bellowing throughout the nights, and exhausting both of his parents and the wet nurse. Sarah and James lost a lot of sleep but both were content with the newest addition to their family. Katie found her little brother fascinating and quickly decided he was her baby. She became quite possessive of him, insisting on helping to bathe him and put him down for his naps, often singing him to sleep before allowing the nanny to put her to bed as well. With Katie watching the baby and their parents watching both, James and Sarah began to plan their move to Port Royal.  
Fate, however, had other plans for them.

Shortly after Matthew's arrival, James was taken under the wing of Admiral Stokes, now in London, and promised he could take early retirement as a Yellow Admiral if he were to stay on for one more year, possibly less if a post opened up. It was more than he could have hoped for and an offer he could not refuse. Sarah, aware of his belief that he would leave His Majesty's Navy short of his dream goal, urged him to take the offer. They could put off their move a little longer and, she reasoned, this way they could direct their agent in Port Royal to find them the perfect home rather than take one of the first ones available. James knew which one he wanted and was pleased he had the leisure to wait for the present owners to see reason and sell it to them.

Both a little drunk on champagne after celebrating their bright future, they continued their revelry in the bedroom. Two months later Doctor Matheson told them Sarah was expecting their third child.

#

Jack had never felt so alone in his life. Not even being abandoned by Barbossa on that island all those years before had prepared him for the life he now led. Gibbs had left the Pearl some time earlier, too old to pretend to be a pirate any more. The old sailor had found a woman willing to put up with him and they lived in Kingston. Most of the crew was new. Of those closest to him only Anamaria remained with him. He was certain she would leave only when he got her that ship he had promised her. She wasn't much comfort in his middle years, being more prickly than ever, but she was a familiar face and they continued their combative relationship, which gave them both some level of calm and steadfastness.  


He missed James with an ache that surpassed the pain in his increasingly frozen joints. The Pearl did not do much more than sail between Port Royal and Tortuga where Anamaria met the owner of an inn. She moved in there while in port, rather than stay on board ship. The trips to Port Royal consisted mainly of a meal or two with the Turners, and to check for mail from England. There was little of that.

One rousing time came unexpectedly in the form of Theo Groves and Andrew Gillette, who arrived in the dead of night on the run from the Navy. Caught in a compromising position by a brown-nosing junior officer, they had little choice but to desert their commands, board a merchant ship and run for their lives. They carried with them a letter from James addressed to Jack requesting his help in their escape. Jack took them to a small island inhabited by people who spoke little English, and who had no interest in the Royal Navy and it's narrow-minded opinions about love. When last he saw them they were building a home from the ground up and sleeping in each other's arms on the beach until it was completed.

Then a second letter arrived, for Elizabeth and Will, which they gave to him when he showed such avid interest in it. Every night Jack read and re-read James' newsy letter, learning of the children's antics, Sarah's latest pregnancy—James seemed frightened by that rather than happy, which puzzled Jack, and of James' impending promotion to Yellow Admiral. It was a position due to his lack of seagoing commands in recent years. Still, Yellow Admiral was a huge boost to his career. Then there was the news that in less than a year's time the Norringtons would be moving to Port Royal, as James planned to retire at that point. He had already bought the Carlson estate in the hills just outside the town. Jack hired a carriage and went out to take a look at it, finding it a fitting home for Admiral Norrington and his growing family.

Will and Elizabeth insisted on celebrating the good fortune of their friend in far off England, and so Jack stayed for dinner and spent the night in the guest bedroom—one of several additions to the once tiny cottage. The Turners were too fond of their first home to want to move, and he understood completely. One's home was as important as the family within its walls, and the Turner's home was the only one he had that contained family.

#

Early one night in the sixth month of her pregnancy Sarah began experiencing pains in her abdomen. The doctor was summoned and soon proclaimed that she was in labour and that it was far too early. He banished James from the bedroom, had the footman fetch a midwife and set to work.  
The moans and then screams from behind the door had James in frenzy. He paced the hallway, refusing to stray farther than that from Sarah. Katie and Matthew were sent to a neighbour's so they could not hear their mother's distress. Both were crying as they were taken from the house. James was far too upset to fully comprehend that they needed him.

The first light of dawn was colouring the eastern sky when the doctor emerged from the bedroom. James struggled up from the floor opposite it, where he had finally sunk in exhaustion to sit against the wall. The household staff had watched him, at first horrified, and then in sympathy.

Before James could ask, Dr. Matheson said, "The baby was stillborn."

Swallowing the grief that instantly welled up, James asked, "What about my wife?"

"She's asking for you." The relief James felt threatened to overwhelm him and, indeed, his legs nearly gave out. Then the doctor said, "Prepare yourself. It won't be long now."

Heart pounding, James pushed past him and entered the bedroom. The midwife made herself scarce, unwilling to meet his stricken gaze. Sarah lay in the large bed looking smaller than she ought to and much paler than normal. Her eyes opened at his hesitant approach and she smiled through her exhaustion and fever, although the smile disappeared as a lingering pain made her close her eyes.

He gripped her hand and silently begged her to look at him again. She did, trying to squeeze back but unable to do more than weakly twitch her fingers.

"I'm so... sorry, James," she whispered.

"For what, darling?"

"Losing," her voice broke and tears ran down the side of her face. "Losing the baby."

James could not speak past the lump in his throat. He shook his head and attempted a reassuring smile that he knew was not reassuring and not at all a smile.

"I love you," was all he managed to get out while watching her fail in her mighty struggle.

"Love... you. Go h-home... James... go to... Jack." Then she did smile and closed her eyes. It was a shocked moment later before he realized she had left him.

#

He had written to tell them he was returning to Port Royal in August but said little else. When the ship docked he saw that Will and Elizabeth along with Elizabeth's father, and a woman he presumed was the new Mrs. Swann, were among the people greeting the arrival. He saw a few others that he also knew, but thankfully they were there for other reasons. He could not have coped with two grumpy children, a tired nanny and people who were more like strangers to him now. He felt like a stranger, wearing civilian clothes in public rather than his uniform and there was the confusion of his grief that left him a bit removed from reality.  


His friends pushed through the crowd and approached him with far more enthusiasm than he wanted to see. Elizabeth pecked him on the cheek and Will and Weatherby pumped his free hand, his left one as Katie was plastered against his neck and refused to be moved from his right side to his left. Matthew squalled in the nanny's arms. James managed an exhausted smile but could not hold onto it.

Then he saw what he had been dreading—the curious, searching looks behind him.

"Where is Sarah, James?" Elizabeth asked.

"She passed on in June."

Her hand flying to her mouth to cover the sound of distress, Elizabeth gasped out her sympathy and her husband and father did the same.

"You didn't tell us that in your last letter."

"I wasn't able to frame the words then. It was still too..." he trailed off, earning a pat on the arm from his friend. Katie squirmed in his arms, suddenly very heavy. He set her down on her feet and gripped her hand, which she gripped back. They had been doing that a lot in the past two months, clinging to each other. Matthew did not seem to comprehend what had happened to his mother. James had decided to wait until he was older to explain it to him.

As he straightened up he caught sight of faded scarlet in the back of the crowd and a familiar pair of dark eyes watching him carefully. Then Jack turned and walked off, occasionally looking back over his shoulder. James frowned when he saw that Jack exhibited little of his awkward grace and seemed to move with a certain amount of stiffness. Then Weatherby was chattering to him, introducing his wife, and James lost sight of Jack.

#

The estate was everything James had remembered and he was glad he had held out for this one. He and Katie and Will did a walkabout around the grounds a few days after their arrival, taking stock of things that needed repairing.  


"The fence is down on the north side, I noticed," he was saying as they entered the house in time for tea. Katie vanished almost immediately. Elizabeth had stayed behind to see to the proper setting, as she did not approve of the staff James had hired. He supposed he would have to suffer through more interviews, unless he could persuade Elizabeth to do it.

Will replied, "And the stable roof looks a little rough. I could help with that. I learned a lot adding to our home."

"Thank you, Will. I would appreciate that."

"Papa!" Katie skittered into the room from the direction of the kitchen.

He caught her before she slammed into his leg. "What is it, sweetie?'"

"There's a man in the garden. He said to fetch you."

"What man?" James was immediately concerned that a stranger had gotten onto their property. He could be a possible threat to his children.

"A funny man. He's lying in a hammock."

James frowned. He could not recall there being a hammock in the garden. There were plenty of sturdy trees to string one between, but he could not fathom how one had gotten there.

"We don't have a hammock."

"He brought it with him and hunged it up..."

"Hung it up," James corrected absent-mindedly.

"...hung it up and said to fetch my da."

James straightened up, suddenly knowing who his visitor was. "Thank you, sweetie. Go help Auntie Elizabeth, will you? I'll go speak to this man."

"You won't yell at him, will you?" She looked terribly concerned at the thought of him yelling at the man.

Thinking that Jack must have already charmed his daughter straight into a lifelong friendship, James smiled softly at her. "I promise I won't yell. I might even bring him in for tea."

Will stopped him before he could leave the room.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

James shook his head. "No. I believe that it is Jack making his newest grand entrance."

"Jack? Is he in port?"

"I saw him at the docks when we arrived the other day. Thank you, Will. I need to speak to him alone."

He walked through to the kitchen and out the back door into the garden. It was in full summer bloom and the fragrances wafting up from the bottom of the yard filled his nostrils with their sweetness. Momentarily lost in the sorrow that Sarah should have gotten to see their home and enjoy this experience he failed to spot Jack right away, lying in the hammock shadowed by two large banyan trees. Their gnarled roots snaked above ground. The children would love this yard.

"Hoy, Admiral!"

James sought and found him at last and began walking towards him. He stopped about two feet short of the net hammock that swayed gently in the breeze. Jack sprawled comfortably in his nest.

James took the time to study him. His hair was greyer than black now but longer and still knotted. There were a few new trinkets tied in the mess. It was all trapped under a new headscarf, the red of the material so bright it almost hurt James' eyes to look at it. Jack's body was still lean, a bit too lean if James was any judge. Amazingly, his face presented few signs of aging to the world. Jack had to be over fifty by now yet he looked thirty at the most—if one didn't count the grey hair.

"Hello, Jack."

"Your little one charmed the boots right off me." He lifted one bare foot and wiggled his toes as if to prove it.

"Funny, I thought it was the other way around. Katie seems quite taken with you."

"Where's Matthew?"

The corner of James mouth quirked upwards. "Matthew Jonathan is taking a nap. He's barely a year old."

Jack stared at him. "Matthew *Jonathan*?"

"Yes. I named him after you. You may now get all full of yourself."

"I'm honoured, Jamie. I'll call him Little Jack."

James snorted. "You will not."

"Could I meet him?"

"Of course. I'm here to bring you in to tea. Katie would be terribly upset if you do not stay for tea. You can meet Matthew afterwards. Will and Elizabeth are here and will also want to see you, I'm sure."

"May I stay longer? Say for dinner?"

Suddenly, unexpectedly, all of the weight of the past few months fell across James' shoulders, bending him and maybe breaking him. He half-turned away thinking to leave but not really wanting to walk away from Jack. He stopped with head bowed, feeling the shaking start from somewhere in his gut and radiate outward. By the time Jack got out of the hammock and reached his side, to James' dismay the tears had started. He tried to halt them but the iron will that had gotten him and his children across the ocean was gone. He hadn't cried since that horrible, long night that had culminated in Sarah's revelation right before she left him forever. When Jack's arms went around his waist from behind he turned into the embrace and wrapped himself around the man he loved, shedding silent tears.

"If it's too much trouble to feed me I'll just find a bottle of rum and regale you all with tales of the Pearl."

Jack sounded so serious that James began to laugh at the absurdity of them being so off pace with each other. He gulped in air and swiped at his wet cheeks. There was also a wet spot on top of Jack's head now. He patted it lightly with his fingertips before stepping back out of Jack's arms. The former pirate gazed up at him in puzzlement.

"What's wrong, Jamie?"

"S-Sarah died. Two months ago. I—it all caught up with me just now."

"Oh, Jamie-love. I'm so sorry. What a time you must have had with the poppets and trying to sort through your grief." Jack reached up and stroked his thumb across James' cheek to dry it.

Those caring words nearly set James off again but his control was back and, after a few hitching breaths, he straightened his spine and shoulders. He hadn't noticed that his left hand remained on Jack's shoulder. He removed it now with reluctance. As he let it drop Jack slid his hand down James' arm and tangled their fingers together.

"You loved her."

James nodded. "She caught me by surprise. I never thought I could love anyone... else. Sarah was a force of nature. I seem to be attracted to such people." He looked pointedly at Jack who flashed a smile back at him. James suddenly knew that Jack had never stopped loving him any more than his love for the eccentric pirate had faltered through the years. It hadn't. It was as simple as that. His love for Jack was as strong as ever.

"I think I should take time to sort through this, as you said. Elizabeth wrote and told me you and Francis are no longer together."

"Aye. He finally got fed up with me mooning over you. Ah, Jamie. The things we have to catch up on."

"Will you stay nearby? I would like for us to get accustomed to one another again. It would help me to have you around to talk to."

"Of course I'll stay. It's not like I've got anywhere to go these days." At James' inquiring look he added, "Told you we have catching up to do."

James nodded and began walking up to the house. He could see Katie fidgeting at the top of the steps as she waited for him to return. "I'd also like to know where you've stashed Theo and Andrew."

"They're fine. Happy as clams; they should have gotten caught inflagrante years ago. I could take you to them if you've a mind to visit."

"I'd like that. We could take Katie. She should get to know her other uncles."

"Other uncles?" Jack asked.

"Well, there's Uncle Jack."

"Is that what I am, an uncle to your children?"

James was perplexed by the question. "What do you want to be? Admittedly, you're more like a child than Katie is but I refuse to adopt you."

Jack slipped his hand through James' arm. Even though James seldom relied on the cane these days a little extra support did not go amiss. Besides, it seemed Jack needed it.

"I was thinkin' more of me being a second father. I always wanted children. Might even have some in ports here and there."

James stopped walking and turned to face Jack.

"I already asked this but I have to know—are you going to stay? Will you take off in the dead of..." That phrase made him shudder so he changed it to, "In the middle of the night?"

"No. Jamie. I'm not going to do that again. It was a mistake the first time. I learn from my mistakes and I've been paying for that one for nearly eight years. I don't want to go through that again. I don't want to be apart from you again. It's time to retire from the sea. I'll give the Pearl to Anamaria. She's the only one still with me. Has the patience of the devil, does that woman, waiting for me to die so she can get her hands on my ship. I'll fool her, though. She'll never expect this."

"Are you sure, Jack? It's a big step."

"Been thinking about it for a long time, love. You don't even have to sleep with me. Just as long as we can be friends again."

"We were always friends, Jack."

Just then Katie, whose patience was more or less nonexistent these days and who never wanted to be far from her father for long, came racing down the path with dark hair streaming behind her to fling herself into James' arms.

"Sweetie, this is Jack. You can call him Uncle if you like." He met Jack's eyes over her head. Jack shrugged in acceptance.

"You were in the hammock," she said.

"Aye. That I was. It's a present for you and your da."

"Thank you," she said seriously. Then: "You have no shoes."

They all looked down at Jack's bare feet. He wiggled his toes again amongst the green grass.

"Left m'boots under the hammock."

"I'll get them!" Katie swarmed down to the ground and raced off.

"She's going to be a handful," Jack observed.

"She already is."

Katie ran back with the boots clutched in her arms like one of her dolls. At five she was sturdy but the boots nearly proved to be too much for her. They kept slipping and she kept hoisting them up, sometimes using her knees. Jack took them from her, bowing in gratitude and planting a quick kiss on the top of her head. To his amusement she curtsied in response and then grinned up at him. James watched with a lump in his throat. He could tell it was love at first sight for both of them.

They went inside where Will and Elizabeth waited patiently. They promised to bring their children the next time. They had a boy Katie's age and they joked about the possibility of her marrying young Willy someday. James refused to think about the future. He was still coping with the present and dealing with the past.

Then the Turners took their leave and the nanny put Katie down for her nap, and Jack and James were alone again. They remained at the table, each lost in thought and comfortable being together even in silence. Finally Jack got up and wandered toward the door. James went to see him out.

"Where are you going to stay once you give the Pearl away?"

"I could stay with Will and 'Lizabeth to start. They've asked me enough times. Maybe find a place of my own later."

"You'd be miserable on your own. Besides, you need someone to keep you out of trouble. We can't do that if we can't see you."

Jack pouted. "I'm not a child."

James snorted again but did not otherwise respond to that. He waited until Jack was out the door and halfway down the path before speaking.

"I'll make sure this door is unlocked tonight." Jack stopped and regarded him quizzically, so he explained, "You couldn't possibly climb the rose trellis any longer. I've noticed how the arthritis is slowing you down."

Jack was a bit put out despite the concern for his welfare. "Take all the fun out of it, will you?"

"If it makes you feel better I won't tell you which is my bedroom. You'll just have to find it on your own." With that he shut the door, allowing a tiny smile to escape.

#

He nearly fell asleep waiting, but finally after midnight a floorboard creaked softly as someone entered his room and closed the door. There was a muffled curse when the intruder bumped into the post at the foot of the bed. The rustle of clothes being removed caused a shiver to run down his spine as he lay listening in the dark. Then, at last, at long last, the mattress shifted and a warm body enveloped him at his back from neck to feet. An arm snaked around to rest across his abdomen and James placed his arm on top of it, pinning it there.  


After a moment Jack said, "I just want to be in your bed, Jamie. We don't have to do anything."

James swallowed back the persistent lump in his throat. "It is too soon to do anything. I need to mourn Sarah. Even this is not exactly proper but she approved of you, Jack, and would not want us to wait too long, I think."

Jack's head popped up over James' shoulder. "She approved of me how?"

"She guessed, Jack. She somehow knew what you mean to me even though I don't think I ever gave her cause to question my love for her. In fact, her last w-words... her last words were that I should go home to you."

Jack tightened his embrace and snuggled closer. "Your lass was a good one."

"Yes, she was." James could feel the growing erection likewise snuggling against his buttocks. After a few minutes, during which neither of them fell asleep, James added, "I suppose I'll have to find household staff that won't be upset at the idea of me living with another man and having you in my bed. They always find out."

"Aye. Dear Mrs. Roth did."

"Elizabeth doesn't approve of the ones I've hired anyway, so getting people now who can accept us would save me looking later."

"Let 'Lizabeth do the hirin'. She's good at things like that."

"Mm hm." Despite the way his body was becoming inspired by Jack's proximity, he was getting sleepy. He picked up Jack's hand that was currently playing with his chest hair, kissed the palm and put it right back where he had found it. "Will you move in tomorrow?"

"Will the townspeople understand their former Commodore livin' in sin?"

"Doesn't matter. They speculated about us years ago, anyway, or so Will tells me. Now go to sleep."

"Aye, Admiral sir."

"One of these days we'll have to try out the hammock."

But Jack was already snoring softly against James' shoulder. James smiled and drifted into slumber.

 

A/N: I'm sure I messed up the stages of James' career, but the Royal Navy of the 18th century did not cooperate with my storyline. I did the best I could. If anyone has suggestions on how to fix this, because it does bug me, please speak up. :)  


A/N2: The hammock is for K.

 

Part 4 :: Part 6


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